Well that was a horrible dream about Hell.

I’m sure everyone has these, but occasionally I’ll have a dream that is especially vivid. So vivid, in fact, that the memory will haunt me until I write it down as a story or a snippet of one. Sometimes these dreams are insanely complex storylines with a detailed backstory that just flowers out of my subconscious fully-formed. Sometimes they are just scenes, or single images. But in every case, they are in vivid color, and they stick with me for days…weeks, even, until they get written down.

Another common theme is that they always, ALWAYS seem to be extremely outre, fantastic, and mythological. They always have to do with demons, ghosts, religion, horrific murders, gods, witches, etc. They are usually quite dark and disturbing as well.

Now, I normally have, well, normal, dreams. These things happen quite seldom…on the order of once or twice a year, maybe.

One of the “storyline” dreams dealt with my role as a witch-hunter in some fictional world. There was an instantly-detailed backstory and magical system that sprang from whole cloth out of my head, and the whole thing revolved around my using the flayed skins of already-executed witches to track down others by a system of sympathetic magic. Very dark. In the dream, we were hunting a witch through a system of urban sewers or underground passages in a city, and came upon a staircase that led to the street level. We came out in a crowded pub, and everything instantly went silent. Someone said, “We were told that anything that came out of that passage should be destroyed, since we are good people.” In confusion, I looked around and saw the word “Brujeria” inscribed on the doorway above the stairs, and realized that I was the witch, as everyone in the pub menacingly advanced. I woke up.

Another had to do with a complicated murder of a young man’s wife by his supposed best friend, and the hauntings that accompanied it until the murderer was found. It included sreaming photographs, the spectre of the murdered woman in my bed, and other nasty delights. I’ll spare you the whole story since it’s very long.

Another was another dream in which I was an Inquisitor type that hunted demons with a silver knife. Whenever one died, it was as if the rest of the people around it forgot it ever existed. In one scene, I destroyed many of them in a single public place, and at the end, there were corpses everywhere, and blood pooling and running in rivers on the floor…and the human crowd was utterly unaware of it. They’d step in the blood, unconsciously step over corpses, laughing and joking, tracking bloody footprints everywhere. Very surreal, and yet very realistic.

Another was simply a scene of a tattoo. It combined the Kaballistic diagram with a cadeuceus, angel wings that wrapped around the body to cross tips across the chest, a World-Tree with roots below the beltline and the upper boughs spreading out across the back, with angels sitting in the branches, and many other elements.

I had another one last night. It was quite short. A vignette from Hell, I guess. I was there, pinned under mounds and mounds of corpses in various states of disrepair, and I could not move anything. I could twitch my head around a little, but it was as if my face was the only thing exposed to the outside. Suddenly, I became aware, by the feeling of shifting weight, of something crawling over the pile, just out of my sight, toward me. A sugary-sweet female voice began speaking, very close to my ear. Very horrible feeling.

She said, “You know, whe I first arrived here, I was terrified. I thought I’d be ripped, maimed, and mutilated constantly. But you know what happened instead? They just held me down and gently tapped on my forehead…for 40 years.”

Then it laughed, high and manic. I tried to squirm at this point, and the voice tsked me.

“I can see you’re going to be difficult to manage. So why don’t we just reach under here like so, and give those pesky cervical vertebrae a little twist…”

At this point I felt a cold hand sliding beside and under my neck, and just as it got a grip, I woke up.

Brrrrr…that was a nasty one. I’ve learned to rather enjoy these types of dreams when they come along, but this one I could have seriously done without.

Wow.

Y’ever done any professional writing? It seems like you’ve got quite a little muse, there.

I really like the one about the demons. Sounds like it would make a good short story.

It does rather seem as if they’re demanding to be written, doesn’t it? I’ve always meant to flesh them out as full-fledged stories, but somehow have never gotten around to it. I do have the bare-bones dreams written down, however.

Might be a fun project to develop a collection of “dream stories.”

In any case, does anyone else have this type of dream? Generally, I dream about normal things, but every once in a while…

They’re quite identifiable as well. They all have this “uh oh, here we go” vibe. Hard to explain.

I had a dream about going to hell one time. It looked like Las Vegas (for real!), but in a Yellow-Submarine sort of way–lots of bright colors and funky shapes. I was taking a guided tour and saw the room full of CEOs slumped over too-small classroom desks, the demons dressed up like dancing girls, and the nightclub full of flames. Nothing worried me too much until I was in line to get out (?). As I moved up the line, I could see down into a little valley. There was a squat periwinkle-blue stucco building–very tacky–whose neon sign said “Hotel Atheistica.”’ That’s when I got a little scared.

So, yeah, I have weird and vivid dreams like that a lot. Just last night I dreamed about being stalked by death, and he turned out to be a chubby guy with a bad moustache and an ill-fitting leisure suit.

[The Eagles]
Welcome to the Hotel Atheistica
Such a lovely Place
Such a lovely Place (background)
Such a lovely face
They’re livin’ it up at the Hotel Atheistica
What a nice surprise
What a nice surprise (background)
Bring your alibis!
[/The Eagles]

I remember having ugly dreams, but since I learned to do lucid dreaming (sometimes it still takes awhile to figure it is just a dream) hellish dreams are a thing of the past.

I still remember one of those last dreams was of me being cornered in a hellish medieval place, surrounded by trolls, demons, etc, a menagerie of monsters from the id.

Just then, I somehow got the thought of getting tired of being scared all the time (dreams like this were the standard) and realizing the weirdness of the situation, I became aware for the first time that I was dreaming. I also realized that then it was my world, and decades before the Matrix, I knew all the monsters were done for; I should have gone medieval on them but instead somehow I decided to “break the fourth wall” with them and stopped them by saying that they better hold on because they were just a figment of my mind, and they were going to be squashed like bugs if they did not end the charade. The monsters looked at each other and they got it!

Best way to describe it, is to remember the Capital One credit card ad with the barbarian horde going away and looking despondent after they find out that the victim had the “right” credit card.

So, they dropped their weapons and mumbling to each other then began to leave the scene! I began to kick myself when I realized that the coolest battles ever dreamt would be forever out of my reach, my id recognized that when someone is aware it is not fun to torment the ego anymore.

My nightmares now involve disasters that can happen naturally, boring stuff that can be dismissed, except the ones dealing with rulers with the power to kill many and convince many others that that is a sound policy. That is a nightmare that sadly does happens in real life too…

Man. You really oughta turn these into works of fiction. The witch hunter story could actually be a great movie. Or at least a short story.

Who are you in the dream: the husband, the friend or a third person? Is this the de la Mar dream?

I think I’ve mentioned one of my otherworld dreams to you before: it’s a land without people though the evidence they were once there is all around. I have a staff that contains some type of spear point that is decidedly an animal part, but it’s complicated- it’s not an animal part that’s supposed to exist. A parasitic voice (makes sense in the dream) is talking to me and I know that it’s evil but it’s also told me enough correct information that I’ve been able to navigate- I know that it’s a “scorpion and the toad” type of thing- it’ll attack the second it wants to, but it needs something from me even if I don’t know what, and more importantly it knows where it’s going.

So it leads me to the banks of a muddy river that I know somehow is alive and was once incredibly important. The “voice” (which is not inside of my head but hovering about my right ear) tells me “When I say the word, strike your staff into the water where you see the reflection of the sun, and you will have what you need…” I keep looking… “Now?” The voice tells me know. We wait for hours and hours (though of course in the dream this is both instant and forever in the waiting) until finally the reflection of the sun is in a place a short throw from the bank of the river. The voice begins telling me in a catlike purring… “almost almost almost… NOW! THROW IT WITH ALL YOUR FORCE! LIKE A JAVELIN! HIT IT EXACTLY WHERE THE SUN IS AND YOU’LL HAVE WHAT YOU NEED!” and I do, and even though (even in the dream) I’ve never thrown a javelin before it works perfectly- the staff-javelin penetrates the water exactly where the sun is reflected.

Nothing happens and I’m standing there with a “what the fu…” feeling, then there is a geyser that erupts from where the staff/spear stuck the water and it is a geyser of blood. The entire river is turning to blood from this thing, but unlike tales from EXODUS it is the water itself that is bleeding and it is in MAJOR PAIN. I can observe and sense its pain, but also its forgiveness.

The Voice starts telling me “You moron, grab the blood! It’s the blood of a god, get it now! Save it! You have no idea how useful it is!” and I rush in and start saving the blood of the river. As I do this the dying river (when I say the river is dying I don’t mean that it is drying up or that the fish are dying, but something that “IS” the river has been mortally wounded- somehow the incorporeal voice knew exactly where to strike) somehow conveys a vision to me with its lifeforce, just a tin glimmer of a vision of what is happening, and I start drinking the bloody water and with each sip I understand just a tad more.

I ultimately understand basically what has happened: this river is the home of a god. An incredibly long time before, back when the land was peopled, we’re talking millions of years before (it’s been so long since the land was peopled that there are no ruins from the people, though you can feel them) the river god, who was the good god in a dualistic pantheon, vanquished this “Voice”, who was then a god him/her/itself. The vanquished god is incorporeal and has been for millions of years, but I supplied the body it needed and its first chance at revenge. The river, without worshippers, was too weakened and too old to defend itself or even know what was coming, but the incorporeal entity is ecstatic. It doesn’t have a body again and isn’t released from whatever it was cast into, but it’s strictly about vengeance.

And I know that the incorporeal Voice is actually telling the truth- I should save as much of the blood as possible because it is the blood of a god and will help me in the road ahead. I also know that this is as far as the Voice goes because I have accomplished all he wanted of me. Telling me to save the blood was not something he did because he/she/it liked me or wanted to help, but because some form of rigid ethics that is as real as physics to these almost dead gods requires them to reward or pay for a service done by a non-worshipper.

Then I found out that I had a final in a class I’d never attended and it really got scary…

Dreams. Weird. Must tell about my last nightmare (a couple of weeks ago) sometime, or the “homeless alternation” dream.

PS- I always thought “brujeria” in your dreams was a pun based on its similarity to “brewery” and your interest in both beer and the occult.

One other oddity about this dream: it’s one of the few dreams I’ve had in which I remember firmly experiencing taste. When I was drinking the River’s blood there was a very real taste and texture- it was naturally like organ meat- bloody and rich, but basically what you’d expect would come from the organ of a liquid creature, and it was addictive and the blood itself pulsed like a heart and with each pulse I received a mini-vision that helped me piece together what had happened. I’m sipping from my hands and in mid-sip the pulse stops and the blood turns cold and the vision stops and that’s when I know the River (or rather the god it housed) is dead.

I was a third person…or observer, or something. At one point, I was in the carriage with them as Barzow outright confesses to the murder. I also remember seeing him rape and murder her a few feet from the window of the bedroom in which Delamarr (I’m not sure how I know it’s spelled that way. It just is.) was sleeping. At other points in the dream, I seemed to be an active character, since the photographs on the staircase were screaming at me “not to wake her,” and when I reached the top landing and looked in the bedroom, her bloody corpse sat up and spoke to me.

I love the story of the river-god dream. It’s such a similar type of dream. The heavy mythology, the syestem of magic/theology that just springs right out of your subconscious, the incredibly vivid images/sounds/tastes (that’s an unusual one,) the sense of history in it. It has the same kind of tone as, say, a Cherokee creation myth. Just timeless, somehow.

Another odd thing about that dream was that I had no conscious knowledge that “brujeria” actually means “place of the witches.” I knew “bruja,” and my brain must have subconsciously put the word together correctly.

Ah, dreams.

See, this would be a problem. I don’t want those dreams to stop. I enjoy them. True, this last one wasn’t particularly nice, but it was still interesting. Plus, it’s a nice little window for me into how my brain operates below the conscious level.

I’m picturing your dream of hell to be a manic, cartoonish kind of Cool World hell. I like it. I especially love the Hotel Atheistica.